


Rental Cars and Westbound Trains

by ETraytin



Series: California Dreaming [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Also Arnie Vinick is the President, An Epic Tale of the Post-Bartlet Era, And maybe some babies as well, F/M, Followup Story to Such A Winter's Day, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post Series AU, Romance and Politics, Secret Relationship, Weddings, lots of weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: With Arnold Vinick in the White House and many Bartlet Administration veterans settled in California, Sam Seaborn is ready for his run at the Senate. With Donna and Josh running his campaign, he has a very good shot at victory, unless their rather complicated personal lives were to become public knowledge. Sacrifices must be made to serve the public good, but some things are just more important than politics. Sequel to "Such A Winter's Day."





	1. Hear Those Windchimes Play

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, and welcome to the new story! Those of you who have been following along for awhile will note that the first few chapters look quite familiar! As I mentioned in the last chapter of Such a Winter's Day, I realized I let that story go on a few chapters too long, when they actually belonged in the sequel story. Because there is no mechanism to fix that on either of the sites I post on, I have instead copied those chapters in their entirety to this work, and marked in Such A Winter's Day where readers are supposed to stop reading and switch stories. Not the most elegant kludge in the world, but it'll do the job. I hope you enjoy where the story goes from here, and feedback is incredibly welcome. I'm worried readers won't follow me from one story to the other, so even a wave hello to tell me you're still here would be great. Chapter Four is all new, by the way! Enjoy!

Donna woke slowly, luxuriating in the softness of her bed, cuddled into the soft warmth of arms around her. She was the only one who really slept in the middle; Josh and Sam were both sleep-rollers and couldn't handle it. But she loved it, on the few occasions they'd been able to manage nights together. This morning she was snuggled up to Josh, her back pressed to his chest and his arm slung around her waist as though she were a particularly favored stuffed animal. At the same time, she and Sam shared one extra-long pillow, their heads close together and one of his arms tangled with hers. The guys were both still sleeping, so she idled for a few moments and just enjoyed the feeling before yawning and stretching, stirring them both. “Mmm, morning.”

Josh shook his head, tightening his arm around her waist. “Nuh-uh,” he muttered. “I'm declaring a moratorium. No morning.”

“I second,” Sam agreed drowsily. Between one thing and another, they hadn't gotten to sleep until very late, especially considering that Josh's body was still on East Coast time. But Donna was a creature of habit and it was after eight in the morning, hours later than her normal wakeup time.

She extracted her arms from Sam's and wriggled out of Josh's grip so she could sit up and nudge them both. “Come on,” she urged, “we're going to show Josh the beach today! Go out sailing,” she reminded Sam, to no avail.

“Later,” Sam suggested, reaching up to try and pull her back down.

Donna sighed at both of them. “I'm getting up, you two can stay in bed all morning.” She slithered off the end of the very large bed she and Sam and now Josh shared and padded into the bathroom.

“Good idea,” she heard Josh mumble from behind her. Sam rolled over into the space she'd left, and Josh wrapped an arm around him instead. Donna snorted a laugh and closed the door behind her. Her body was twinging in a few places this morning, but all good aches, the sort attached to pleasant memories. She wasn't much of a shower singer, but her mood this morning was enough to bring out a little humming anyway.

After Zoey and Charlie's wedding in June, they'd spent an amazing night together in Nashua, and then two weeks later, she and Sam had flown down to Florida for a long weekend at Josh's sparsely furnished condo. It had been another full month before Josh had been able to arrange some time off from his punditry obligations and fly out to California, but that was all right with her. Just the fact that he was coming to them this time was important, a milestone in their relationship. Donna loved Josh, and she knew that Sam loved him too, but neither of them could be in a relationship with him where they did all the work. This was a good start.

By the time Donna finished her morning ablutions and wandered back into the bedroom in her towel, the guys were awake, if not exactly fully cognizant. She gave them a cheerful smile and started to get dressed, rather enjoying Josh's suddenly poleaxed look. Sam was always an appreciative audience, but he'd gotten past the stunned reactions months ago. Despite temptation, she kept her dressing quick and mostly functional, lest they miss out on any more of the morning. They'd made that mistake in Florida, and though Donna had no real regrets about a weekend where they never went outside, Sam had been talking about finally getting Josh out onto the boat almost since he'd gotten the boat.

Breakfast was easy enough, the bagels and muffins Donna had picked up from the bakery combined with butter and a pot of coffee did the job just fine. There were not, she realized quickly, enough copies of the newspaper to go around. Even that wasn't too big a deal; she simply hid the one copy they did have in the back of the pantry to be read later. President Vinick had ruined enough perfectly nice mornings already, and she didn't even want to know what he might have up his sleeve today. She liked keeping up with current events, and she loved talking about politics, but one day off wasn't really too much to ask.

Having all three of them together at the table was surprisingly domestic and not-weird (and one of these days Donna was going to stop checking her not-weird meter about this, but probably not just yet), with most of the talk concerning Sam's little yacht and all the things he'd done to it that he planned to show off to Josh today. Josh knew from boats about as much as he did from alien spacecraft but he was a good sport about it, listening with an only slightly glazed expression and making occasional jokes about polishing the bowspirit. Finally, though, as they were finishing the last of the coffee, Josh looked up from his mug. “I guess we need to talk about what happens when we go out.”

Donna glanced at Sam, then looked back at Josh. “How so?” she asked cautiously. His tone of voice said he was talking about more than who had to ride in the backseat on the way to the marina.

Josh grinned a little, his favorite half-sarcastic smirk. “I know it probably doesn't even need to be said, but none of this leaves the apartment, right?” He gestured to the three of them around the table. “You never know who's going to be hanging around taking pictures, especially in LA.”

That got a frown from both his dining companions. “So what,” Sam asked, “you want us to act like strangers when we're out together?”

“I don't think it has to go quite that far,” Josh replied, a sardonic note to his voice, “but the, you know, the touching and stuff, that's not gonna play well if anybody catches it.”

“We've always touched each other,” Donna pointed out, toying with the edge of her napkin. “All of us, all the time we've known each other. Nobody's said anything before.”

“Yeah, but that's different,” Josh insisted. “It's different when there's nothing underneath it to dig up. If somebody had looked at us in the White House and gotten suspicious and started looking, it wouldn't get them anywhere so it didn't matter. What about now, though? There's a hell of a lot more to find!”

“So maybe they find something,” Sam responded, getting the stubborn set to his mouth that Donna knew well. “What does it matter? It's nobody's business but ours, and we aren't doing anything wrong.”

Josh literally smacked his forehead with his hand, hard enough that it sounded painful. “Do you even hear yourself? A candidate for the U.S. Senate, talking about publicly engaging in a three-way relationship, including sleeping with another man? You wanna think about how that's going to play in Orange County? What about the Imperial Valley? What about if you ever want to even think about running for President? God, Sam, if anybody ever heard about what we've done already, your career is probably over.” He clenched his fists on the table and looked down at them, his voice strangled as he spoke. “If we were half as smart as we all say we are, we'd stop this here and now.”

Donna reached out and covered one of his clenched fists with her own hand. “Maybe that would be the smartest thing to do,” she allowed calmly, “but it's not really what any of us want, is it?”

“It's not about what we want!” Josh insisted. “It's about what we can possibly hope to have without destroying everything we're working for! Politics is ugly, Donna, you know that!”

“Not everything can be about politics!” Sam insisted, his own voice growing louder to match Josh's. “There are things that are more important than politics! If we give everything up just to win an election or gain a few points in the polls, then what the hell are we doing any of it for anyway?”

“You're right that it's dangerous, Josh,” Donna agreed, even as she took Sam's hand with her free hand. She deliberately underpitched her voice, lowering the volume and knowing they'd both stop to listen. “You're right that it might not be wise. Sam and I being together is probably not the wisest thing either. He could do a lot better in terms of a political match. But it's not what we want.” She looked at Josh, waited until he raised his eyes to look back at her. “We are more important to us than politics. You are more important to us than politics. God, look at everything we lost for the sake of the Bartlet administration! I'm not going to go through that again! We shouldn't have to give up everything just to serve the country.”

Josh didn't say anything, just looked away. Sam took a deep breath. “I know politics is your life, Josh, but it's already just about killed you two or three times over. If there's an opportunity someday for me to run for president, then yes, I want to do it! But I don't want it more than I want you or want Donna. And if that means I wind up spending the rest of my life working in transactional law in some little LA firm, I can live with that. We've already changed the world, don't you think we deserve a chance to finally live in it?”

“Yes,” Josh said, sounding like the word was being dragged from his unwilling throat. “But I need you to be able to change the world again. I need you to go to the Senate and fix all the stuff that's getting screwed up out there.” His hand relaxed slightly under Donna's, so that she could slip her fingers around his and squeeze them. “I can't do this if I'm going to ruin things for you.” He scrubbed his face with his free hand. “And honestly, I don't know how I'm not.”

Donna looked over at Sam and quirked an eyebrow. He sighed, but nodded a little. “If it's what you want,” she told Josh, “we'll just be your best friends in public. We can go easy on the touching. But you may end up getting jumped in a broom closet sometimes, I make no promises.” She managed to say that last bit totally deadpan, despite Sam's snort of laughter.

Josh laughed too, soft enough that she felt it through his arm more than heard it. “I guess that's a risk I'll have to take,” he replied. “In private, things can be the same, but in public...” He shrugged. “This is just how it has to be right now.”

“The way it has to be really sucks,” Sam began, and Donna worried that he was going to start the argument all over again, “but I see your point.”

“It's nobody else's business anyway,” she offered. “This gives us our privacy. Politics or not, I don't want to give that up.”

Sam stood up and started to clear plates to the kitchen. “That's another good thing about ocean travel,” he called over his shoulder. “There's a lot of privacy!”

Josh looked at Donna and grinned. “I knew he'd be able to bring it back around to that boat,” he murmured to her, sotto voce. She laughed.


	2. They Serenade the Shadow Lovers

Josh was the first to admit he gave Sam a lot of shit about his sailing hobby. He couldn't help it, it was low-hanging fruit and he was a man of simple pleasures. Even back in their days on the Hill, Sam hadn't shut up about sailing, though back then it had been sailing on his dad's catamaran or going out yachting with his friends from Princeton over a holiday weekend. Was Josh really supposed to just let that lay there in the dirt and not harass Sam mercilessly for his complete and utter WASPiness? It would've been unconscionable. And despite how pissed Leo had been, Josh also counted the day that Sam had tried to take a couple of important Democratic fundraisers out on his little sailboat and promptly fallen overboard as one of the happiest of his entire life. That was the sort of material that lasted for years.

Even so, even if he couldn't quite say it out loud, Josh also had to admit that when he was out on the water himself, with the sky a bowl of perfect blue and the wind catching just right, he sort of understood how Sam felt about sailing. They'd gone out together a few times, back in the day, and it really had been a hell of a rush, and a nice break from the insane pressures of DC. Sam was a different person on the water, calmer, more focused, less insecure. It was the first time Josh had gotten a glimpse of who twenty-four year old Sam was going to be, what he could be. The last time they'd gone sailing had been just after the first Inauguration, when Sam had rented a sailboat and they'd gone out on Chesapeake Bay. It really was incredibly beautiful there. Sailing with Sam was just one more thing that had fallen by the wayside when he'd realized that whatever was between them had to stop. He supposed maybe it was poetic that now they were together again, in whatever strange and ill-advised way, that the first thing they'd do was hop in a boat.

Things were different this time, of course. Sam had a new boat, a thirty-foot cruiser with brilliant white sails, christened Calliope after the muse of epic poetry. (Josh was still working on the perfect joke for that one.) They were on an entirely different ocean this time too, though Sam claimed he could actually navigate by the stars when sailing the Pacific. Donna was along this time, a highly capable first mate, which was entirely unsurprising to Josh. Whether it was joining a campaign, helping run a country or learning to hoist sails, there was very little she put her mind to that she couldn't master. For a girl from Wisconsin, she was quite at home on the sea, and of course her research was exhaustive. It was kind of nice to participate in an activity where he didn't have to be in charge or even understand most of what was happening, but could just let himself be carried along by people he trusted.

They sailed out for quite awhile, though Josh took a little nap in the middle of it so he couldn't be sure how long. He woke to Donna smearing sunscreen on his face and got a little lecture about avoiding skin cancer, which he endured manfully for the sake of being able to return the favor. That was much more fun, especially since she'd exchanged her blouse and capris for a fetching blue bikini. The cold lotion on her back made Donna squeak, and he already knew all the ticklish spots on her ribs and behind her knees. By the time he finished chasing her around the deck and making sure she was adequately protected from the sun, Sam had dropped the anchor and the sails and run out a poly line with a lifejacket on it for swimming. By unspoken accord, Josh and Donna decided that Sam looked to be in danger of a sunburn as well and teamed up to make sure he was well-slathered.

Sam, being not always so clumsy on a boat, retaliated by throwing Donna into the ocean and pushing Josh in after her, then settling himself on the side with the sober claim that somebody had to stay on the boat and keep watch. Josh was skeptical, but he also didn't want to become some cautionary tale for young sailors, so he refrained from pulling Sam in after him. Instead he splashed around in the cool, salty water and didn't bother to try and catch up with Donna, who swam like a porpoise after months of water therapy. The current wasn't strong out here and there were no other boats in sight, so he could turn on his back and just float a little bit, letting the sun beat down on his skin. Eventually Donna switched places with Sam so he could swim, giving him a chance to remind Josh how to use a dive mask and snorkel for a look around under the water. There wasn't a lot to see besides grey-blue ocean and Sam, but that was really enough of a view to get by on. Josh did his best Jaws impression and wound up wrestling in the water with Sam till he was half-drowned, then all three of them sprawled out on the deck to dry off in the sun and the breeze. It was the most fun, just silly, pointless, juvenile fun, that Josh'd had in years.

Sam sat up after awhile and unpacked the sandwiches they'd brought, passing them around with bottles of iced tea. “So how's the pundit game treating you?” he asked Josh with ridiculous forced casualness. He was a good politician, just not around the people he was close to. Lying to the people you loved was probably the cardinal sin in Sam's book.

Josh leaned back against the rail, glancing Sam's way from under the protection of his sunglasses. “Not too bad,” he replied laconically. “Did you see I went up against Mary Marsh on Capitol Beat the other day?”

Donna laughed. “We both watched that. You'd think they'd know better by now than to schedule you two together.”

“Are you kidding?” Josh retorted with no small pride. “They'd book us every week if they thought they could get away with it. Watching that sanctimonious god-botherer get put in her place is ratings gold.”

“Telling her that “her guy” had a few things to say about whitewashed tombs was a bold move,” Donna commented, folding her legs up under her on the bench. “I'm not sure she got the reference, but some of her friends will.”

“I've been doing my homework,” Josh told her proudly. “Understanding the writings of other religions. I guarantee it's not something that gasbag in a wig has ever considered doing.” He was bouncing a little in his seat now, remembering the thrill of a well-crafted insult. “I never really considered how much extra thought it takes to come up with new material week after week.”

“Maybe you need a team of writers, like Leno,” Donna suggested, tongue-in-cheek. “Lots of folks looking to break into television writing in this town.”

“But do any of them hate Republicans enough?” Josh wondered. “It's California, Donna. I hold these people directly responsible for Vinick.”

“Not everybody in the state voted for Vinick,” Sam reminded him. “There are two Democratic senators right now, and I'm certainly hoping to keep it that way.” Josh could hear the conversational pivot in Sam's voice and tried not to shy away from it. He'd known this talk was coming, and he couldn't exactly dive overboard to avoid it. Sam had improved his strategic thinking considerably in the last five years.

“It'll be a tough fight,” Donna chimed in with a nod. “Midterm year keeps the Democrats home, but enough of them are unhappy with the President's economic and ecological policies that we should be able to turn them out. The primary should just be a matter of getting Sam's name out there to the party faithful, but it looks like Jason Decker might be looking to make the jump from the House.”

“Decker?” Josh squawked in spite of himself. “That little worm has his nose so far up Haffley's ass that I'm surprised he can see the Senate. No way is he going to become Senator!”

“He's popular in his district,” Sam mused, “and like you said, California did go for Vinick last year...”

“Because they lacked a viable alternative!” Josh insisted., fully aware that he was in grave danger of rebutting his own argument about Californians. “Any Democrat who can make even a vague appeal to moderates can look good against Decker. The one you really need to worry about is Candace Matthews.”

“From Imperial Valley?” Donna asked.

“Not for long, if she has her way,” Josh insisted. “Word is she's already hired a statewide polling firm and is expanding her PR staff. If she decides to run, she'll kick Decker's ass in the primary and come into the general with momentum to spare.She'll be popular with economic moderates and national security types, and even though the women's groups hate her, that doesn't matter so much because she's a woman herself. She'd be tough to beat.”

Sam cocked his head, a little smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “Sounds like you've been giving this some thought already,” he pointed out.

“Talking about this stuff is what I do for a living,” Josh retorted, trying not to sound defensive. He suspected he probably sounded defensive. “You can get hours of airtime out of bullshitting who's going to run for what office even in the midterms.”

“You could be doing more than just bullshitting,” Donna offered, raising both her arms to put her damp hair back in a ponytail. That was really distracting, so much so that he almost missed the rest of her words. Almost, but not quite. “Sam needs somebody with experience to manage his campaign.”

Josh looked away. “I thought you were doing that.”

“I haven't got the experience,” she admitted with a little shrug.

“Donna's done an amazing job on all the prep work,” Sam cut in, always ready to defend Donna even when it wasn't necessary. Josh could appreciate the sentiment. “That's the reason we're looking at a light primary; she's already spent six months talking Democrats around to our side, not to mention doing all the paperwork, making the contacts, all while working full-time and going to school on the side-”

“Sam,” Donna interjected, cutting him off in turn with a frown that was a bit too indulgent to be truly annoyed. “It's okay, we talked about this. There's no shame in being inexperienced except not recognizing it. Josh has been in politics since...” She stopped herself, made a face. “I'm not even going to explore what I was doing when Josh got into politics, but he's got the experience, and the knowledge. The Republicans wouldn't know what hit 'em,” she added with a faint smile.

Josh kept his gaze mostly averted, somewhere over the prow. “That wasn't exactly the case in my last election,” he muttered.

Even without looking, he felt it when Sam came around to sit next to him, his sun-warmed chest pressing lightly against Josh's side. “You shot the moon last election,” Sam reminded him quietly. “Nobody could've done as much as you did, nobody could've done better. And nobody but you thinks you're washed up in politics. Any Democratic politician in the country would give their eyeteeth to catch your attention and have you do what you did for Matt Santos. And you haven't noticed Santos complaining, have you?” Sam ran his fingers through Josh's hair, rested his forehead against Josh's temple. “I'm not asking you to prove anything because you've got nothing to prove. But we want you to do this with us.”

Donna stayed where she was, and he wondered if she knew how trapped he would feel between them both right now. She'd always been good at reading him. “And it would make a lot of things easier,” she added carefully, “in regards to what we were talking about this morning. It would only make sense for us to spend a lot of time together. For you to move to California, even.” She drew one knee up and rested her chin on it, regarding him unflinchingly. “Maybe it's time to get up off the mat.”

Josh ran a hand through his hair, dislodging Sam's fingers only slightly. “I have to think about it,” he told them, not liking the pleading edge in his own voice. They were right, in a way, but they were wrong too. Nothing about this was going to be easy, and moving to California, getting into the campaign, all of that would just make things even more complicated. In Florida he could be a penpal-with-benefits, but in California... Despite all that, he was surprised at how much he wanted it, wanted more days and nights like this, wanted to believe that somehow they could have something outside of politics just for themselves. “I will think about it,” he promised. “Just give me a little more time.”

Sam nodded, drawing back just a little without actually releasing Josh. “Okay,” he agreed. Josh could tell that he wanted to add supplemental pleadings, but a smart lawyer knew when to let his argument stand. They sat in the quiet for a minute, the sun beating down even as the breeze cooled his skin, and Josh wondered if maybe they could just keep sailing and not turn back towards land, and then they'd never have to make any of these impossible choices. Was that the feeling that drew Sam back to the sea again and again?

But eventually Sam got up and raised the sails, with Donna helping him and Josh calling out not-very-helpful advice from his seat until Sam threatened to throw him overboard again. They caught the tide on the way in and made excellent time (according to Sam, since for all Josh knew they were going the wrong direction entirely), so that by dinnertime they were docking back at the marina and washing the boat. Sam insisted that boatwashing was a vital component of the sailing experience, as well as important for keeping the boat in tip-top shape despite the fact that the boat was literally covered in water and sailed in water. He also promised that next time Josh came out, they'd do a weekend-long sail, and show Josh the cabin beneath the deck. It was an unstated reassurance that no matter what happened with the campaign Josh would be welcome, and also a fairly intriguing idea.

By the time they got back to the condo, all three of them were a little sunburnt despite precautions, exhausted, and ravenous. They ate Chinese take-out straight from the cartons, rubbed aloe on each other, and collapsed into the big bed in a much less seductive fashion than they had the night before. It was still good. He kissed Donna's hair and stroked Sam's back, listening as they both fell asleep around him. Josh had no idea what he wanted to do about the campaign or his career or any of it, but he knew that whatever happened, whatever he did, he didn't want to lose this.


	3. Ring and Fade Away

“So, a hurricane, huh?”

“Not yet, it’s just a tropical storm. A big tropical storm.” Josh’s voice on the phone was amused, despite a thread of worry. “My mother has firmly enjoined me against using the H word until we’re sure it’s going to make landfall, and even then it might not hit anywhere near us. Anyway, I can’t really take it seriously.”

“Tropical storms are pretty serious,” Sam countered, leaning back into his office sofa and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Even storm-force winds can be dangerous, the rain can lead to flooding…”

“Yeah, but Dean?” Josh interrupted. “I just can’t picture a hurricane named Dean as a real threat. That’s like the guy who fixes your toilet when it clogs up, or changes your oil. If they want us to take these things seriously, they’re going to need to put a little more testosterone in the names.”

“Like Hurricane Joshua?” Sam asked, laughing.

“I can assure you there are plenty of people in DC who’d sit up and take notice,” Josh retorted smugly. It was good to hear Josh being smug again, oddly enough. During the Santos campaign, he’d been frazzled and frantic, afterwards he’d been much more subdued than Sam had ever seen him before. He put up a good show for television, but it wasn’t the same Josh who’d terrorized the Ops bullpens with demands for pastries and worship after winning the tough victories against Congress. Despite the occasionally insufferable moments, Sam found himself missing Josh’s arrogant swagger.

“Funny enough, I made the same point to Donna, about hurricane names, I mean, and she pointed out that Hurricane Donna beat the tar out of the Lesser Antillies before half-drowning Florida in 1960,” Sam parried. “They retired the name and everything.”

“She would know that,” Josh replied with a chuckle. “In any case, we’ve got the storm shutters ready to put up if the storm gets any closer, and you know how my mom is with emergency preparedness. If you think the box in my car was nuts, you should see her garage. She’s got enough supplies to feed the neighborhood for a month, and one of those gas-powered generators too. The minute it starts raining hard, I’m heading over there. But it’s not going to happen, number one because it would have to swing at a really improbable ninety-degree angle to hit Florida, and number two because its name is Dean.”

“You’d better hope you’re right,” Sam informed him mock-soberly, “because if not, you’re never going to hear the end of it. But you know,” he added, making a deliberately heavy-handed segue, “if you want a really fool-proof way to avoid hurricanes...”

“I should trade them in for earthquakes?” Josh finished. “I’m not sure that’s much of an upgrade. At least a hurricane has the courtesy to make an appointment instead of just dropping by anytime.”

“There aren’t that many earthquakes,” Sam protested, “and there are other benefits as well. If you’re worried, I’m sure we could start stocking up on canned goods, just in case. So have you thought about it?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Josh admitted, dropping the banter for the moment. “It’s a tempting offer, and I know I told you I’d come with you when you started running for office. But I was much younger and stupider back then, and I had a lot more energy,” he admitted frankly. “Running the Santos campaign… I don’t know if I can do it again. Look how it turned out last time.”

“Josh...” Sam desperately wished that there wasn’t a continent separating them right now, wished that he could see Josh’s face and put his arms around him. “I don’t know when you’re going to start believing that the Santos campaign wasn’t a failure, but it wasn’t. You did everything right, and it was just inertia and fate and timing that didn’t work out. But putting all that aside, this isn’t going to be like that. This is a state campaign, for one thing. It’s on a whole other scale, practically little league for a guy who’s done three national campaigns. But more importantly, you’re not going to be doing it on your own. We’re going to be right there with you, and it’ll be different.”

Sam could hear Josh’s laugh, barely a puff of exhaled breath, on the other end of the phone. “That’s part of what I’m worried about,” Josh admitted. “When I’m with you, I don’t think much about politics. It’s not exactly what you’re looking for in a campaign manager.”

“Yes it is,” Sam countered immediately. “You saw the shills the DNC gave me when I was running in the 47th. They thought about nothing but politics, and I almost ended up punching one in the mouth. I want somebody who isn’t only thinking about politics, somebody I can count on to be looking at more than that. I know you’re my guy.”

A moment of silence. “Just a couple more days,” Josh finally asked. “I need to talk it over with my mom and with… there’s a guy I’ve been talking to down here for a couple months,” he admitted. “Stanley recommended him. I promised you I was gonna do what it took to get better, and I’ve been working on it. But it took forever and I don’t really want to break again.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam told him. “It’s still August, we have a little time. Your health comes first anyway, that’s not even a question.” He paused for a moment. “But hypothetically speaking, if you were managing the campaign, what would you be telling me to do for the next month or so?”

“That’s easy,” Josh said immediately. “Get a ring on Donna’s finger and a wedding date set.”

“What?” Sam was pretty sure his voice hadn’t been that high a minute ago.

“Single, never married playboy living in sin with his girlfriend, that’s not exactly the image you’re looking to project,” Josh counseled. “Especially since you know somebody’s eventually going to dig up the hooker- the call girl thing,” he corrected before Sam could protest. “Living with your fiancee is considerably better, but living with your wife is going to be the best.”

“Jesus, Josh, I was more looking for ideas like “build a fundraising infrastructure for small donors,” Sam protested weakly. “You’re telling me to get married?”

“What, don’t you want to marry her?” Now Josh sounded indignant on Donna’s behalf, which was just bizarre.

“Of course I do,” Sam said immediately, not even needing to think about it. “But I don’t want to mess up this thing we’ve got either. Getting married is a big step, and I assume your plan is to be the best man or something.”

“I have some great ideas for a bachelor party,” Josh assured him. “And President Bartlet will not be included in them.”

“Don’t you think this is weird?” Sam pressed insistently. “You’ve got to think this is weird. How can I marry Donna when we’re all three of us together?”

“Easy,” Josh told him. “There’s a church and a minister and some rings, and what I’m sure is going to be an extremely WASPy ceremony...”

“For God’s sake, Josh!”

“Come on, Sam, be reasonable!” Josh was starting to sound impatient. “There’s no way for the three of us to be together publicly, it’s just not a thing that’s going to happen. You and Donna have been dating for a year, you’re a perfect couple, and everyone is expecting you to get married. I don’t think that you two sharing a last name and matching pieces of jewelry is going to change how any of us feel, right?”

“No, of course not,” Sam said automatically. “But it doesn’t seem right...”

“For the campaign, for the politics, for our privacy, we need to concentrate on how things look,” Josh reminded him. “But when it’s just us, how it looks doesn’t matter compared to how it is. And if that’s not going to change, then you two being married is going to make everything easier. Rumors go away, the pressure is off, and you’ve got yourself one hell of a wife in the bargain. It’s a win-win.”

Sam sighed. “I’ll have to talk to Donna about it.”

“Well yeah, I’d hope so,” Josh chuckled. “Women sort of hate it when you spring a wedding on them.”

“About all of it. And you should talk with her too, in person, ideally. When can you get out here?”

“That was well done, very sneaky,” Josh complimented him. “I’ve got a thing with CNN tomorrow night, and I’m flying into DC on the weekend to do Capitol Beat in person. Can you free up any time early next week?”

“Yeah, we’ll manage,” Sam told him. “You going to bring an answer with you?”

There was a moment’s pause. “Yeah, I’ll tell you then. Give my love to Donna. And to yourself, too,” he added belatedly.

Sam snorted. “Is it really that hard to say out loud?”

“Well… yeah,” Josh protested, his voice getting just a little squeaky. “We’re men, and men don’t say shit like that. Haven’t you ever watched an action movie?”

“Just a few, and I don’t feel any aspirations towards being like most of the heroes,” Sam pointed out. “We’ll see you next week, then. I love you, Josh.”

“I love you too, Sam,” Josh’s voice was only a little strangled when he said it. Sam counted that as good progress.


	4. Like California Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, this is the new chapter! If you've been skimming, here's where you should start reading.

September in California was weird. It had been weird last year, and Donna didn't think that any number of years spent there was going to change her impression. September was supposed to mean cooler weather and leaves starting to turn, not one more month of endless summer sunshine. At the very least, September was supposed to mark the end of the season where alabaster-skinned women had to put on layers of sunscreen just to walk out the door in the morning, but that didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon, either. She'd already tried it once and had the peeling shoulders to prove it.

At least nowadays she had not only CJ to commiserate and swap skin-care tips with, but Margaret and Carol as well. CJ spent a lot of time traveling, mostly to DC and various African nations, but whenever she was in town the four of them got together for lunch at least once for a meeting of “BFA West,” as Margaret jokingly referred to it. Of the four of them, Margaret seemed to be having the most fun adapting to life in California, where it was very easy for a person with someone esoteric beliefs about life to fit right in. Donna knew she still missed working with Leo, but also knew her friend would've quickly gone around the bend trying to micromanage Leo's retirement. And that was to say nothing of what would've become of Leo, with Margaret, Mallory, Annabeth Schott (and wasn't that an interesting piece of gossip!) and Abbey Bartlet all on his back. Carol was settling in nicely at her new job in the Public Relations office of the Hollis Foundation, raising money and spreading the word about roads, and of course CJ was conquering the world in her usual inimitable fashion. 

It was nice, Donna decided, to be able to sit in the company of accomplished women, women who were going places, and not feel in her secret heart of hearts like she didn't really belong. That was something she'd never quite managed in the White House, no matter how accomplished she became in running Josh's office or how many times she managed to surreptitiously save the day. She was just an assistant in the White House, and even among the assistants she was by a wide margin the least experienced, the least educated. She'd had a very particular skill set focused around Josh Lyman management and had parlayed that into a job she never should've been qualified for. Even though nobody who mattered ever said anything, maybe never even thought it, Donna had always known. She'd gained experience, she'd gained a wide variety of skills, but the feeling had never gone away. 

Now though, in this new context, she had much more to be proud of. She'd moved up in her career, becoming a researcher with an assistant who worked for her, and soon she'd be taking another jump when Sam's campaign became a full-time operation. She had one semester left till she earned her bachelor's degree, with grades that guaranteed a graduation with distinction. It certainly wasn't everything she wanted to accomplish, but it was a damn good start, plenty good enough for her to hold her head up in the company of the talented, intelligent, interesting women she counted her friends. 

Of course in most of their lunch gatherings, catching up on each other's lives quickly turned into gossip about their relationships. After all, they could talk about politics with anybody, but bitching about one's significant other required a much higher level of trust. The main topic today was the continuing saga of planning CJ's wedding. 

“So then I had to tell him that even though we already put down three thousand dollars worth of deposits, we were changing not just the date, but the state we're having the wedding in.” CJ concluded her horror story with some relish, taking a healthy sip of her wine. 

“Oh my god, what did Danny say?” Margaret asked, her own cup forgotten in her hand. She had a drink that looked like it had been dredged from the bottom of a pond, but contained no alcohol. Donna suspected she might be pregnant again, though she hadn't said anything yet. 

Carol grinned. “Did he mention his justice of the peace friend again?” she guessed, stabbing an olive out of her salad. 

“He did better this time,” CJ assured them, leaning forward in her chair. “He'd already collected a whole pile of pamphlets on skydiving weddings, and told me that if we did it that way, we could pass over six or seven states during the ceremony and nobody would feel left out. And he assured me that going tandem with instructors wouldn't make it very much less romantic.” 

Donna clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle loud laughter. “He's not wrong,” she pointed out when she'd gotten herself under control, “It would be hard for anything to make that much less romantic.” 

“Oh, I don't know,” Carol chimed in, “it could be all right. CJ's veil flapping in the hundred mile an hour wind, trying to snag a kiss at terminal velocity, sparkling crystals of ice in Danny's beard... do you think they tie the rings to something so nobody drops one?” 

“It's actually pretty disappointing,” Margaret offered, neatly folding a slice of jicama around a precise line of tuna salad. “They do the ceremony in the plane and then you jump out, already married. And if you want an Elvis impersonator, that costs extra.” There was a beat of silence around the table, but Margaret seemed unfazed by the reaction. “There was a whole special about it on the Travel Channel.” 

“Margaret, I have absolutely no idea what I'd do without you,” CJ said with great sincerity. 

“But why are you changing everything now?” Donna asked. “I thought you loved the place in Santa Monica.” 

“My father,” CJ replied shortly. “I want him to be there, and he's... He can't travel anymore, definitely. He gets confused, but he's better closer to home. If we have the ceremony in my home church, that will be simpler. Danny and I are both Catholic, it won't be a problem.” She smiled dryly. “The only real problem is finding a decent reception space in Dayton for November.” 

“November?” Carol squeaked. “That's two months away! Why-” The look on CJ's face was enough to stop that line of questioning. Waiting too much longer might mean her father wouldn't be there at all. “Good thing that between all of us we know pretty much everybody in the world. Want me to make some calls?” 

They talked wedding for a few more minutes, then for a little while about Carol's new boyfriend and whether a tattoo of an old girlfriend was a complete deal-killer or if there was a statute of limitations on that sort of youthful indiscretion. Donna, who had more than her share of dumb moments in her youth, came down firmly on the side of giving the guy a chance, so long as he had a good reason for not getting it removed. Margaret backed her up, but suggested that Carol shouldn't look for anything permanent with him unless he was willing to get a bigger tattoo of her name first. CJ admitted that she'd gotten a regrettable tattoo in her own wild days, but refused to say what or where it was. Donna filed the question away for next time they got drunk together. 

The conversation finally turned to Donna, a scenario she'd been turning over in her head for awhile. These women were her dearest friends, but there was still no way she was going to spill all the details of her unusual relationship with them. At least not yet, not while things were still so new and unsettled. But at least she could talk about Sam, and she did have a juicy tidbit to drop about that. “I think he's going to propose soon.” 

“Oh really?” CJ asked, eyes bright and interested. “Do tell.” 

“It's just a feeling I have,” Donna said lightly, waving a hand. “It's been nearly a full year since we started seeing each other, and there's that sense you get when it's really serious, you know?” It was a much more romantic answer than 'we had a three hour roundtable discussion about it last weekend where I laid down conditions about where and how I'd allow myself to be proposed to and the media strategy we were going to use afterwards.' It hadn't really been as bloodless as all that, but Donna still preferred the fairy tale. “Plus he stole one of my rings out of my jewelry box and seems to be hoping I haven't noticed.” 

“Yep,” agreed Carol with a definitive nod of her head. “I wouldn't trust your romantic instincts for a second, but the ring is a dead giveaway.” 

“Hey!” Donna protested. 

“We lived through seven years at the White House with you,” Margaret reminded her, sipping at her pond scum. “You dragged me out on no less than three double dates the year you decided that picking up men in bars was the key to romance, so long as they were wearing nice suits. I still have visible scars on my aura.” 

“Todd and Barry and Velour Suit Guy,” Carol counted off on her fingers. “And Health Club Guy, though I'm not going to fault you for him. My god.” Margaret nodded wistful agreement to that one. 

“So I had a bad year,” Donna countered primly, picking at the edge of her orzo salad with her fork. She was just glad none of the assistants had ever found out about Cliff. CJ knew, but CJ was an excellent keeper of secrets, and even she didn't know everything about that unpleasant little chapter in her romantic history. Next to that, even Velour Suit Guy was a smart romantic decisions. “It's how you finish up that counts, not how you get there.” 

“True,” CJ agreed, “and thank god for that. And for laser tattoo removal.” 

That was enough to sidetrack Carol, but Margaret was undeterred. “You know, for awhile there I was sure you and Josh had something going on. And by awhile I mean about five years, especially when he went after you to Germany. But then you both ended up leaving and ffffttt!” She mimed a fizzling gesture with her hands. “Anyway, you and Sam are so cute together it almost makes my teeth ache, so when are you getting married?” 

“He has to ask me first,” Donna protested, hoping the redness in her cheeks could be attributed to the wedding question. “But hypothetically sometime in the spring, maybe April or May.” 

“Plenty of time before the election,” CJ noted. “You haven't got much of a primary field to run against, so you won't be ramping up till summer.” 

“You're such a romantic, CJ, I don't know how you cope,” Carol teased. “An April wedding out here in LA would be gorgeous, but you'd have to fly your whole family out. Has he even met your parents yet?” 

“Mm-hmm, they came out this summer for a long weekend. I'm not sure I've ever seen Sam so nervous,” Donna confessed with a laugh. “We took them out on the boat, and it's a miracle he didn't fall overboard again. But my parents like him even though he's a Democrat, so I'm not too worried there.”

“Just remember that we're your first call,” Carol told her firmly. “Good or bad, we want all the details. You can always tell your parents about it later.” 

“Unless he proposes on national television or something like that,” Margaret pointed out. “Free advertising!” That idea met with widespread scorn from the table, and Donna decided not to admit that she'd explicitly ruled out any sort of television coverage, much to Josh's disappointment. By the time lunch broke up, she'd promised to keep them apprised of any proposal-related developments, no matter the day or hour. 

Donna hadn't been sure how it would feel to have a clandestine relationship, something she couldn't tell even her closest friends about. It was a little uncomfortable, yes, but she hadn't realized it was also going to be so exciting. Maybe it was perverse, but having a secret, especially such a titillating one, was a delicious feeling. She'd have given it up in a heartbeat if it meant being with both her lovers publicly, but she was enough of a realist to know that couldn't happen and having a sexy secret was some consolation. Of course, that might be a short-lived benefit. She still wasn't sure how it would feel after she was married, whether or not it was going to change things. 

She'd been resistant to the idea at first, even more so than Sam. Standing in front of her family and God and vowing to be faithful to one man when she had no such intent had seemed sacreligious, if not downright blasphemous. At the very least it had to be tempting fate. Josh had pointed out that they could have a civil ceremony, could write their own vows in ways careful enough to not be telling any lies. Even then, though, Donna had been incredibly unenthusiastic about the idea of getting married just because it was politically expedient. She knew Josh was right that a married candidate was easier to run than a single candidate living in sin. He was right that a wedding would curb gossip and make their lives easier in all sorts of ways. But it was just such a cold calculus, the romantic little girl in her couldn't help but recoil. Sam had vacillated in both directions, agreeing with each of his lovers, not quite able to find the common ground. 

They'd been well into their fourth hour of debate before Donna had started to catch on to what was really going on under the surface of Josh's arguments. It wasn't really about the politics. Josh Lyman the political mastermind could run an unmarried candidate and win. Even after the bruising end of the Santos campaign, she knew he still had that much confidence in his professional abilities. The massive hole in his self-confidence lay elsewhere, in his belief that he could have any kind of personal life without somebody getting badly hurt. Most of the losses in his life to date could be chalked up to an excess of bad luck, but it had left him with a wrongheaded certainty that he could destroy people just by standing too close or wanting too much. He'd been pissed off and hurt when Donna and Sam had gotten together, but she knew now that there'd also been a little bit of relief in the thought that now that they had each other, there was no way he could ruin either of their lives. Opening the relationship to him had reintroduced the possibility of entropy, the potential for everything to fall apart because of him. In some mixed-up, scared corner of Josh's brain, a wedding was insurance that he was not going to destroy the two people he loved most. It was ridiculous, but Donna understood. 

Armed with that understanding, she'd said yes, but with conditions. The first was that she was going to get a proper proposal, not this crazy board meeting of the Moss-Seaborn-Lyman Housing and Sex Cooperative Association. There would be no scripted, staged, overdone proposal that would be used for campaign fodder. There would be absolutely nothing embarrassing or massively public. If there had to be a camera it would be one camera, and far away, and discreet. And it had to be romantic. Sam had gotten the look on his face that he got before writing the State of the Union, and Josh had rubbed his hands together. Donna was only a little afraid of what they were going to come up with. 

In the meantime, though, she had other fish to fry. A bachelor's degree in political science required an internship credit that would've slowed Donna's progress and been incredibly redundant besides, given her prior experience. Her advisor was allowing her to instead write essays about her time in the White House and how it had prepared her for a career in public service. She'd worked on them for most of the summer, coming up with all kinds of stories and anecdotes along the way. Many of them had needed to be excluded to keep the writing at least somewhat academic, but it had been surprisingly fun to think back on a time in her life that had ended so painfully. Today's meeting would determine whether her essays were acceptable and would put her on track to graduate, or whether she'd have to hop a train and ride the rails as a hobo forever. She was only a little nervous. 

Professor Feinstein was a true academic, one of those political science professors who had never gone into politics herself, but who knew it inside and out anyway. She was an engaging lecturer, a challenging teacher, and just a little bit intimidating as an advisor. When Donna arrived at her office, the professor was waiting with a manila folder full of essays. She waved Donna to a seat. “You look nervous.” 

“Just a little,” Donna admitted, smoothing her hands once over her knees and then forcing them to stillness. “It's an important part of my program.” 

“True,” the professor allowed, leafing through the papers. “You've got quite a collection of stories here, and even under the tyranny of APA style, they're fairly engaging to read. Have you considered publishing them?” 

Donna laughed. “Oh, no, not really. The high level staffers sometimes write their memoirs once they leave the White House, but nobody wants to hear from the assistants.” 

“I'm not so sure about that,” Professor Feinstein countered. “It might just be that nobody gets a chance. I've read plenty of those memoirs, and they don't tell stories like you've got in here. It would be an interesting perspective. Think about it.” 

“I will,” Donna said, because it seemed like the safest and most diplomatic reply. She was no writer. “So were they comprehensive enough, or are there things I need to add, or...?” 

The professor gave a careless wave of the folder. “Oh yes, they're fine. You know and I know you've got the experience of ten internships, it's just a matter of having the documentation. Pass this semester's classes and you're a college graduate.” Part of Donna was a little indignant that she'd agonized for weeks over a formality, but most of her was just happy to escape the office and be done with one more hurdle. January could not come fast enough.


	5. It'll Be All Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I'm still working on Dulce et Decorum for the Fic-a-Day (I've decided that I will just post it in a lump when it's finished rather than posting every day), but it's also the start of Work in Progress Week! Today's assignment was "Your oldest WIP." Since Such a Winter's Day was the very first fanfic I started for The West Wing and this story is its direct successor, I figured that counted. Besides, I've been owing a chapter on this forever! For the rest of the week, be on the lookout for chapters in my favorite WIP, an AU WIP, a canon WIP, and my most popular WIP. I don't actually know what my most popular WIP is, so if you have an opinion, feel free to weigh in. Meanwhile, feedback is loved and deeply appreciated, especially in a week where I'm up to my eyeballs in writing!

Working in politics for so many years had taught Donna a great deal. She'd learned quickly that many of the accepted stereotypes about politicians were not true at all, or only selectively true. For instance, back in Madison she might have accepted the idea that all politicians were good liars. These days she knew better. Neither of her boyfriends could tell a convincing lie to save their lives, at least not to her. It was oddly comforting, knowing them so well, but mostly it was just amusing. 

This week had been a real showcase of that inability, as Sam and Josh worked together to put together a proposal that met her stringent requirements. Sure, most of their time was still spent on starting up the Senate campaign and moving into their new offices downtown, but she would catch them in corners here and there, plotting intently until they spotted her and then scurrying off like guilty little boys. Sam penciled a meeting with a nonexistent PAC onto her schedule for late Friday afternoon, so that was obviously when things were going to happen. 

That belief was reinforced Friday morning when Sam was so distracted during the morning staff meeting he could barely talk and Josh was forced to go over the day's plans and hand out all the assignments. Sam then made himself conspicuous by his absence from the office. Donna resisted the evil little urge to make trouble by telling the guys that she had some urgent meeting come up in the afternoon, but she didn't want to watch one or both of them completely unspool over it. Instead, she snagged Josh by the collar just after lunch and pulled him into one of the offices they hadn't filled yet. 

“Not that I'm not flattered,” he told her as soon as the door closed, giving her his best smirk, “but I thought we agreed not to do any of this at work.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, though her hand on his collar had already gentled to her fingers stroking his shoulder. “I'm not going to ask you to confirm or deny, but I'm pretty sure that you and Sam have worked something up for this afternoon that is going to involve a public change in our relationship and isn't going to be easily walked back. I know this is something we've talked almost to death and you've been the biggest proponent, but talking about it and doing it are actually two different things. I want to make sure, very sure, that you're still okay with this and not just going along with it because you think it will make Sam and I happy, because right now it's not too late for us to just keep on with how we've been going-” 

Josh put a hand on her cheek, his smirk warming into a smile that was equal parts affection and amusement. “You gonna take a breath at some point here?” he asked, running his thumb lightly over her lower lip. “Donna, have you ever known me to just go along with something because it's what somebody else wants?” 

She frowned at him. “Yes, and don't dodge the question.” 

It was his turn to roll his eyes, but she wasn't letting him get away from her on this one. “Yeah, okay, so maybe I might go along, but do you think I'd really be busting my ass to help out if I weren't on board with... the thing?” he asked, obviously editing his words at the last minute. “I had no idea this was going to be like a second, really annoying job when I started, and now I've got Sam sending me texts at three in the morning about love poetry and music choices and whether you don't like getting flowers or only don't like getting flowers in April. I've been to stores I didn't know existed, only to endure hours of him agonizing over tiny differences I can't even see before he'll buy anything. Trust me, Donna, if I weren't completely, wholeheartedly behind this plan, Sam would be in a tiny barrel in the bottom of the Pacific Ocean by now.” 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Donna giggled. She rested her palms against his chest and brushed her lips across his. “Thank you for enduring all that agony just for my sake. I know it probably seems a little stupid, making you guys jump through hoops for this.” 

Josh slid one hand around the back of her neck, keeping her close. “Nah, it's not stupid, it's you being you.” She gave him a cockeyed look suggesting she wasn't sure if that was a compliment, so he hurried on. “You've always been the one who reminds me that the way we do things is as important as getting them done. Sam and I both need you to keep us on track and give us some style.” He touched his forehead lightly to hers. “He's really nervous,” he confided. “You're not going to leave him in suspense or anything, right?” 

“Oh, probably not,” she replied, her lips curving in a secretive smile. “I've already told all my friends that he's going to propose and I'd hate to leave them hanging.” She laughed at his squawk of indignation. “I just wanted to make sure we're still okay.” 

His response to that was to kiss her thoroughly, his fingers carding her hair while hers kneaded his biceps. They really had promised not to do any of this at work, but it was a special occasion and the door was securely closed. They'd just be more careful from here on out. She drew back with a shaky breath, smiling at him as she wiped a bit of lipstick off his face. “Well, all right then.” 

With a bit of a nudge from Josh, Donna left the office exactly on time for her afternoon “meeting,” conveniently scheduled at a cafe by the waterfront. She arrived and gave her name to the amused-looking maitre'd, who presented her with a single rose and told her that her party was waiting for her at a particular slip on the marina. Grateful that she had decided against getting her hair done for the occasion, Donna made her way down to the dock and found Sam waiting with the Calliope and another eleven roses in a crystal vase. “Hey pretty lady,” he called as she approached, “want a ride on my boat?” 

Donna laughed and shook her head even as she hopped aboard. “That was terrible.” 

He raised his eyebrows and pretended hurt. “I just thought that it was more polite to ask before I shanghaied you aboard my pirate vessel. This being a more enlightened age and all.” 

“I do appreciate a polite pirate,” she decided, pulling him in for a kiss. Sam smelled of sunscreen and tasted a bit like salt water, a combination that always made her think of summer vacation. “But I thought I was here to meet with the reps from the Pacific Advancement PAC.” 

“They couldn't make it,” he told her with a shameless grin. “But it's a gorgeous day, let's play hooky for a few hours. I brought your hat.” He held up the enormous floppy straw hat he'd bought her on their first sailing trip to keep the sun off her sensitive skin. “And dinner!” 

“How can I refuse?” She took the hat and tied it under her chin, then helped him cast off. 

They sailed with the wind for awhile, moving fast with no real plan. Once they were out beyond the traffic of the marina, Sam dropped the sail and they sat down to eat the catered picnic dinner he'd packed along. She expected him to ask then, out in one of the places he loved best, with the sun shining down on them both, but he seemed entirely focused on the brie and brioche and the thermos full of lobster bisque. He didn't look nervous for possibly the first time all week, she noticed, so he'd probably made a specific plan for later. Sam liked having plans. 

Once the food was done they fooled around a little bit, also one of Donna's favorite things to do on the water. The ocean was freedom for both of them, away from social and media pressure that was only going to get more intense as they became more successful. At home they could do as they liked, but it was rare for them to be outdoors in a situation where Sam could be goofy and Donna could swear and they could both go around with their shirts off (though not for long with Donna, who really didn't want a sunburn tonight.) She wondered idly if they could get married on a ship somehow; it really did seem fitting. Though it would be just her luck if half the guests got seasick or contracted norovirus or something. 

They didn't start for home until the sun was sinking in the sky, arriving back at the dock just as the last rays of light were disappearing. Someone had been busy in their absence, decorating their docking slip with strings of tiny white lights and more roses. Donna wasn't entirely sure who'd done it until she noticed half a string of tangled lights, still plugged in and lit, wadded up and hidden behind a piling. She turned, grinning, to share her insight with Sam, only to find him already on bended knee with soft music playing in the background. Sam was always handsome, but right here and now, looking at her this way, he was breathtaking. 

“I know we've talked this out at great length, making plans and contingency plans until we ran a very real danger of taking the romance out of a moment that should be nothing but romantic.” He took her hand; his was a little bit sweaty, hers was a little bit shaky. That surprised her, she'd thought herself more than prepared for this. “But I've also spent a lot of time this year thinking about my future, what I want from life, what's most important to me, what I'm willing to fight for and sacrifice for. I've come to a lot of different conclusions, and some of them are pretty surprising.” His smile was charming and self-deprecating. “But the one conclusion I keep coming around to is that whatever my future winds up looking like, I can't imagine it without you there. Donnatella, would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?” 

Donna had thought she'd be composed at this moment, had thought she'd be eager to see the ring. She hadn't thought she'd cry. It was funny how easily her most confident plans could be scuttled by this man just being who he was. With her throat too tight to allow words, she nodded ferociously and pulled him to his feet so she could throw her arms around him and pepper him with kisses. As promised, she never even noticed the single, discreet photographer. 

Between one thing and another, it wasn't until the next morning that Donna managed to get hold of her phone and called CJ. It rang five times before it was picked up, but by a very bleary-sounding Danny. “Concannon's House of Waffles and Regret, how may I get you off the phone faster?” 

She chuckled. “Good morning, Danny. Sounds like you had a big night last night.” 

That elicited a groan. “Some of my friends from the Post were in town for a conference. We did a bachelor thing. We may have done several bachelor things. Can I borrow Sam's fishing waders?” 

“I'll see what I can do,” Donna promised. “Where's CJ?” 

There was a brief commotion on the other end of the line. “She was making me breakfast,” Danny informed her. “Now she's abusing me to try and get her phone back. Ow!” 

A little bit more ruckus, and then CJ's voice came over the phone. “Good morning, Donna!” she caroled cheerfully, and rather loudly. “Isn't it a lovely day? And so very bright! We could open some of the windows in here, let that beautiful sunshine in...” In the background, she could hear Danny groaning.

Now Donna was giggling helplessly. “CJ, stop being mean to Danny, I need to talk to you.” 

“Fine, ruin my fun,” CJ sulked, but left Danny to suffer in peace. “What's the news?” 

“Well, you know that conversation we had last week at lunch about-”

CJ hadn't lasted eight years as one of the most powerful women in the world for nothing. Before Donna finished her sentence, she was cutting in. “Oh my god, he proposed?” 

“Last night,” Donna confirmed cheerfully, then spent a little while telling CJ all about the sailing trip and the flowers and the lights, with a few carefully studied edits. “It was all so romantic I cried all over him, even though I knew it was coming.” 

“He did a good job,” CJ agreed, only slightly grudging. “And how was it afterwards? You did get sex, right? Post-engagement sex is not to be missed.” 

Donna hiccuped just a little. “It was... it was good. Very good.” It was true, but she wasn't going to give any details about that whatsoever. Way too many chances of slipping up when describing what kind of wonderful time she'd had. 

CJ seemed to sense her reticence and backed off. “Are you still thinking April for the wedding?” 

“Yes, I think so. We want plenty of time before Election Day, but any sooner and the press would speculate. You know how it goes.” Donna leaned back in her seat and tucked her feet up under her, getting comfortable. 

“Absolutely. The press are bottom feeders,” CJ agreed, deliberately raising her voice so it would carry. “April should be perfect though, you'll have great weather for an outdoor wedding if you wanted.” 

“I haven't gotten nearly that far in the planning yet,” Donna admitted. “But I do know I want you to be a bridesmaid for me. Can you do it?” 

“I'd be honored,” CJ told her immediately. “Though I think it's called something terrible like bridesmatron if you're already married. Will you let me help pick out the dresses?” 

“I don't know, I've got my heart set on something in a nice fuchsia...” 

“Just remember, you've already agreed to be in my wedding,” CJ threatened. “It's not too late for me to change the wardrobe up.” 

“All right, fine, fine,” Donna laughed. “Though you may have to fight it out with my sister and my cousins.” 

“I can take them,” CJ declared with great confidence. She paused for a moment. “So, ah, have you told Josh yet?” she asked delicately. 

“Yes, Josh knows,” Donna replied, trying to be as casual as possible. 

“I didn't want to say anything at lunch with the girls, but Danny mentioned that Josh was pretty upset when he heard that you and Sam had gotten together.” CJ sounded like she was trying to pick her way through a minefield with a bamboo cane. “Is he okay with, you know, everything?” 

“Josh is really happy for us,” Donna said firmly, letting the confidence she felt be heard in her voice. “He was right there with Sam the whole way from what I hear, helping to pick out the ring and everything. He's going to be best man.” 

“Oh, that's fantastic,” CJ enthused, obviously relieved. “I was afraid... well, you know how Josh broods, and Sam takes everything to heart. I'd hate it if they never managed to make up with each other.” 

“Josh is our best friend,” Donna told her earnestly. “And it's not just about being able to work with him on the campaign. He's very special to both of us, and even though it took some time, we wanted to make sure we didn't lose him.” She wanted to say so much more, but she couldn't yet, not even to CJ. 

“I'm glad to hear it. Now are you sure I can't pry any more details from you about last night?” CJ teased. “I myself was left very wanting by a certain drunken journalist-” Another brief commotion on her end interrupted the conversation. 

Donna laughed. “No, and I think I'm going to let you and the drunken journalist work that out on your own time. I still haven't even called my parents yet; the “call CJ first” rule is too deeply ingrained in my subconscious. See you Wednesday?” CJ agreed, for all she was obviously distracted, and hung up, leaving Donna to call her mom, then return to the very lazy men in her bed.


	6. Never Was Meant For Glitter Rock-n-Roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Nanowrimo train got a bit derailed this week with a commission story that ended up a few thousand words longer than expected, but here I am, back again! This story gets more complicated the further out we get from canon, but I do enjoy writing it. Hope you enjoy reading it, feedback is always beloved.

If it had nothing else to recommend it, Dayton, Ohio in November made Sam remember exactly why he loved living in California. Weak gray sunlight trickled over a landscape of barren trees and dead grass without even a blanket of snow to lend it some wintery charm. Some ambitious soul had lined the front steps of the church with baskets of white lilies to provide a little beauty and life, but if the weather didn’t creep above freezing soon, they’d be turning brown as everything else. Donna had assured him that this afternoon should boast a high of a full forty-five degrees, but he’d believe that when he saw it. Ideally from indoors, through a window, while standing under a heating vent.

He quickly found the dumpster he’d been looking for at the back of the church and tossed in the bag of floral detritus left over from decorating the church. This was turning out to be an extremely wedding-filled year for the veterans of the Bartlet administration, and he was getting quite experienced at moving chairs and hanging tulle. It made sense, really, people who’d put their lives on hold for politics were finally getting a chance to move forward, finding hope for the future even in the era of Vinick. But it was a lot of work!

He’d been peripherally involved in planning this wedding through Donna, who had served as combination right-hand-woman and wailing wall for CJ during the apparently arduous struggle of planning a wedding in Dayton on short notice. CJ’s original plan had been a beautiful beachfront wedding in California, but that had been scrapped when it was apparent that her father was not fit to travel that far, even with professional assistance. It was honestly questionable whether Talmidge Cregg could attend a wedding at all and understand what was going on, but CJ had changed everything anyway, arranging her wedding two thousand miles from home, in a city she’d left a quarter-century ago and rarely looked back on. Even with Margaret, Carol, Donna and a professional wedding planner to do the legwork, the day had almost not come together at all. Which was why Sam was here once again on the morning of a wedding, moving white folding chairs around and carrying trash for his friends.

The air inside the old Catholic church was not that much warmer than the temperature outside, but at least it was less windy. Sam loosened his scarf as he walked into the narthex, where he found Josh sitting in the midst of a pile of embossed wedding programs, laboriously tying a white satin ribbon into each one of them. He seemed to be cursing under his breath. “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Questioning my life choices,” Josh muttered, not looking up. “I offered to help Donna with these things because I’m a hell of a guy like that, and then she immediately gets a phone call she can’t dodge. I think it was a setup the whole time.”

“That seems possible,” Sam agreed soberly. “She’s sneakier than both of us put together.” He dropped into Donna’s abandoned chair and picked up a program, tying the ribbon onto it with neat precision. Who said that sailing didn’t give you life skills? “Where’s everybody else?”

“CJ and a bunch of women went by a few minutes ago with a bunch of dresses and four enormous trays of snacks, none of which they were kind enough to leave here,” Josh informed him. “Priest is talking with the Secret Service guys in the sanctuary about where President Bartlet is going to sit. And I think CJ’s brothers are roughing Danny up out by the dumpsters or something.”

“Can’t be by the dumpsters, I was just out there. Maybe they’re roughing him up out by the playground equipment,” Sam offered. “Danny’s a brave man. CJ’s got some very large brothers.” Josh hmmed agreement and the two of them worked in silence for a few minutes, save for the rustling of paper and Josh’s occasional quiet curse.

The meditative moment was broken by the slamming of the large oak front door as Donna rushed in, her cheeks pink over her white scarf and brown coat. “How much do you love me right now?” she demanded.

“Immensely,” Sam replied without hesitation. He liked it when questions had simple answers. Next to him, Josh nodded agreement.

Donna grinned, the massive smile that showed most of her teeth and lit up the entire room. “How much more will you love me when I tell you I got you on Meet the Press for the first weekend in February?”

Sam didn’t know what to say for a second, his brain scrambling to come up with the political angle she was obviously expecting him to get. Josh was a half-mile ahead of him. “”You’ve talked to Nelson about officially announcing his retirement,” he guessed.

“Last week in January,” Donna confirmed.

“...Which sets us up for an official campaign kickoff on national TV on the highest-rated Sunday morning news show,” Josh concluded, his own grin broadening to match Donna’s. “How the hell did you pull that off?”

“I have friends, Joshua, so many friends,” she told him smugly, then turned to Sam. “We’re going to spend the first week of February prepping you within an inch of your life, and it’s going to be amazing,” she assured him.”

“You are amazing. I could kiss you right on the mouth,” Sam finally managed, then suited actions to words, dropping his entire pile of wedding programs to the floor in the process. Donna made a squeaky little noise of surprise but didn’t seem at all unhappy about his reaction.

Josh cleared his throat loudly. “Not to break up the fun or anything, but all the paintings of dead holy people are watching you right now,” he pointed out. “I don’t know a lot of the rules for Christian churches, but I’m pretty sure you could be struck by lightning at any moment.”

Donna pulled away, giggling. “Not in the Methodist church,” she assured Josh, “but I’m not totally sure about the rules for Catholic churches. Better safe than sorry.” Even so, she looked both ways and then gave him a quick kiss too, burying one hand in his curly hair to tip his head back.

“We’re doomed,” Josh told her, though he didn’t sound too upset by the fact.

 

“If I’m going to get hit by lightning, I’d like to earn it,” Donna told him, bending down to pick up the programs Sam had dropped. “Are you almost done with these? I need to go get dressed-”

The sharp clatter of heels racing across tile floor interrupted the conversation. Sam turned to see Margaret hustling down the hallway, worried resolve all over her face. “Donna!” she called. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s CJ’s dad. He took a turn for the worse last night.”

“Oh no!” Donna pressed her fingers over her mouth. Sam instinctively moved in closer, putting a hand under her elbow. “How bad is it?”

“He’s not dying,” Margaret allowed, “but he got some kind of respiratory thing and it made the dementia worse somehow, or different anyway. They wanted to give him supplemental oxygen and he attacked the nurse,then had to be sedated. CJ’s stepmom and stepsister have been dealing with it so she wouldn’t have to do it, but he’s not going to make it to the wedding.”

“Shit,” Donna murmured, softly but with great feeling. Sam echoed the sentiment. After all those months of work… “How’s CJ doing?”

“Pretty upset,” Margaret said in the bland tone that meant she was deliberately underselling a crisis. “I think she’ll want you in there. How long till guests start arriving?”

Donna checked her watch, then pulled a tablet from her voluminous coat pocket and poked it to life. “Actual guests shouldn’t be here for two more hours, we’ll be suiting up the ushers and book attendant ten minutes ahead of time. There’s still time to work… something out.” She shot Sam and Josh a quick helpless look, then hurried off down the hall with Margaret.

Sam looked over at Josh. “Guess we should probably go find Danny.”

Danny, who did not appear severely roughed up, was down in the Fellowship Hall with his groomsmen, watching baseball on an ancient television with their tuxedos half-on. He wanted to go to CJ immediately, but finally agreed to deploy Toby as an emissary to the female half of the wedding party. If anybody besides Danny could comfort CJ it would be Toby, and Toby could make the tough call on whether it was necessary to subvert wedding traditions and call in the groom-to-be.

In the meantime Danny paced the room while Josh brooded and Sam fielded texts and made phone calls. Donna informed him by text that CJ’s eldest brother had gone to the nursing home and agreed with the assessment already made. _cj very upset :(_

_i bet so. whats next?_

_have 2 find pinch hitter i guess. big bro might but not same._

_how about the magic man?_

_… seems fitting doesnt it? can u get in touch and ask?_

_yes, you hold down fort in brideland. need booze?_

_no booze in church. :( :( :( have already eaten 100000 cheese cubes_

_ouch. well get you drunk at reception 2 make up for it_

_its a date. Ilu_

_ilu2_

Josh looked over Sam’s shoulder at the cramped screen on his Blackberry. “You are an incredibly sappy man. I don’t know if I can continue being associated with you.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to help me out at the reception?” Sam asked innocently.

“Oh no, I will. Donna’s hilarious when she’s drunk,” Josh assured him. “Are you really gonna call?”

Sam shrugged. “Can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s done it three times now, he’s the leading expert we’ve got.”

***

Two hours later, the heat was finally turned on, the sanctuary was filled with guests, and an organist who looked about a hundred years old was playing a surprisingly energetic prelude designed to get people in their seats and out of the aisles. Sam was already seated near the front of the sanctuary, just behind CJ’s family and the Secret Service, with Josh seated an appropriately manly eighteen inches away. Not for the first time, Sam thought ahead to April and what that would be like. Not a church wedding, Donna had been firm about that, but still a big affair with lots of family (mostly hers), friends and important people they couldn’t afford not to invite (mostly his). He wondered what it would feel like to have Josh up there standing next to him, so close to where he was supposed to be but still that crucial eighteen inches away, pushed to the side at his own insistence. Sam resolved to have a talk with Donna at the first opportunity. They needed to figure out some way to make Josh part of things, by hook or crook.

First though, there was this wedding to finish up with. Donna came down the aisle first, wearing a blue dress that made her look almost ethereal, one that he and Josh had already gotten her out of once when she’d tried it on for them at the hotel. That had been entertaining. According to Donna, it was the rare holy grail of bridesmaids dresses that actually might be worn again, if it weren’t torn or damaged by unnamed parties who she would then have to kill. They had, luckily, been careful enough. Donna shot them a quick grin as she passed, then was met at the front by a scruffy-looking redhead who had to be one of Danny’s close relatives.

After her were Margaret with Toby and then Carol with some reporter whose name Sam kept forgetting, then a couple of titian-haired kids who were probably also Concannon spawn. Danny himself was standing at the front of the church, sweating lightly and looking like he wanted nothing in the world more than to loosen his tie. Josh leaned in and whispered to Sam, “That’s exactly how he used to look when we were waiting for final exams to be posted. Ten bucks says he’s already thrown up once.”

“No bet,” Sam whispered back, “Toby already complained to me about it. He’s gonna be fine.”

Just then, the organist paused and changed a few of the stops with a muffled whump-whump-whump, then launched into an enthusiastic version of the Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin. Everyone in the pews shifted, then rose to their feet. Josh whispered “So if we have to stand for both of them, do they cancel each other out and we should be sitting down?”

Sam just snorted, then craned his neck along with everybody else to get a view of the center aisle. CJ was looking as lovely as he’d ever seen her, disdaining the poofy dress for a slim cream-colored gown that made her look as though she could’ve been carved from antique marble. She had no veil or headpiece, her dark hair held back by nothing more than a few sparkling clips. She’d caught Danny’s eye first thing and grinned at him before bestowing her attention and her abundant happiness on the crowd. Next to her, President Bartlet held her arm in a fatherly grip, moving with the ease of a man who had done this before and was proud to be doing it all again.

Sam’s position at the front was just close enough to hear the President’s murmur as they stopped at the head of the aisle. “Now Claudia Jean, are you really sure about this rascal? I still know a few people…” CJ laughed and kissed him on the cheek, then walked fearlessly to meet her groom. Danny suddenly looked a lot less tense. As the former President slipped into the row ahead of Sam and Josh, Abbey gave him a playful nudge and whispered “jackass.” Everything, Sam decided, was well with the world.


End file.
